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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818897">I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishful_stargazer/pseuds/wishful_stargazer'>wishful_stargazer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishful_stargazer/pseuds/wishful_stargazer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of frustration, Julie (with a little unasked for help) accidentally rewrites history and the boys, instead of dying by questionable hot dog get to live out their rock star fantasies as Sunset Curve...on a bigger level than they ever imagined. And nothing about it is right.</p>
<p>What do you do when all your wildest dreams come true, but you're missing  the one person you didn't know to dream for?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Mercer &amp; Julie Molina &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer &amp; Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Friends On the Other Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first time ever writing any kind of fan fiction. But I couldn't help it. So please be kind...but also honest. I would welcome any input.  It's set a few months after the night at the Orpheum but is NOT a season 2. It's more of a season 1.3, if there were ever such a thing. </p>
<p>Julie and the Phantoms is of course a fantastic feel-good show, but there's no getting around the fact that it starts with a tragedy when three boys who aren't even 18 yet die by hot dog. At least it was over quickly! </p>
<p>Apparently, this is what happens when I think too much about stuff. It's kind of me telling myself (and apparently all of you) that the boys are better off as they are.</p>
<p>I love to write but I hate to title. I shamelessly stole this one from the Savage Garden song...along with 11 other people who have written various things here over the years. But this is the first JATP one, so I'm not worrying about it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Some days it was all a bit much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately, the rosy glow faded rapidly. When her phone blew up the morning after the Orpheum performance, Julie was trying to imagine the conversation with potential managers that started with “So, my holograms are all kind of pink and transparent now and I don’t know how to fix it…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One very welcome after-effect was their physical presence. Something had been altered that evening, grounding them in the material world. By concentrating, they found they could all maintain their visibility to lifers without playing music, although it was much easier to do it with people they were closer to and in smaller groups. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On another memorable day, Reggie poofed out to the beach with his arm around Julie's shoulder...and took her with him! That discovery led to a lot of fun mini trips on nights that Julie supposedly spent studying at Flynn’s house. They learned that what Alex described as a “tingle” manifested for Julie as an overwhelming nausea if they jumped too many times, so she still rode to and from all their shows with Flynn or her dad. Luke argued that they ought to play a show where Julie popped in along with the rest of them to create some extra buzz for the band, but Alex and Julie vetoed the idea. Neither of them wanted to risk exposure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie and Luke both loved pushing the limits of their ghostly abilities. Luke mastered levitation, and Reggie delighted Carlos by rearranging the limbs on his body so he was walking around on his hands while his legs jutted out from his shoulders. Over time, they discovered that they could touch not only Julie, but Flynn, Carlos, and even (with some effort) Ray, who remained oblivious to the boys’ paranormal nature. After that, Reggie and Ray spent many lazy Sunday mornings doing the crossword puzzle together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex in particular had a hard time accepting that last one. “Dude, half the time you forget the street Julie lives on, but you know the correct plural of isthmus?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie just shrugged at him. “Here’s a fun one from this morning: seven letter word for a rubber from the Middle East?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julie gasped and Luke quickly covered Carlos’s ears. “Reg, so uncool.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie’s proud smile was quickly being replaced by a frown. “What’s the big deal?” he asked indignantly. “ALADDIN.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And best of all from the boys’ point of view, one day after a marathon practice session, Luke teasingly grabbed Julie’s apple and took a big, juicy bite. He froze, then slowly started chewing. “Guys! I can taste it!” He swallowed. “I can eat it!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie, who had been absentmindedly thumbing his A string, whipped his head around so fast he forgot to turn the rest of him, leaving his face hovering above his back. Julie shuddered and looked away. Carlos got a huge kick out of Reggie’s weird contortions, but to Julie, who thought </span>
  <span>of them as actual people first and ghosts second, watching his head twist 180 degrees on his neck had never stopped being totally creepy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa, seriously?” Reggie squealed. “Be right back!” and he poofed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex wordlessly raised his hand, and Luke tossed the apple to him, cheekily throwing it high over Julie’s head. Alex contemplated it for a minute, then visibly braced himself, and took a bite. His face lit up with the gentle, delighted smile Julie loved so much but so rarely saw except after he spent time with Willie. He chewed and took a second bite. Luke whooped loudly, leaped into the air and did a single, perfect backflip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys?” Julie made herself frown at them, “you know, that WAS my apple.” But she couldn’t sustain it. They were so happy. Her lower lip twitched and her dimples appeared. Luke dropped to the ground, grabbed her hands, and spun them both in a circle. “Forget the apple! Let’s go get a burger...a steak...tacos...you name it! I want a milkshake!” he paused the spin for a moment and flashed his “I have a genius idea I’m going to try to charm you into” grin. “Have you ever had french fries in Paris?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie reappeared in a blur of silver, chewing happily. One hand held a paper soda cup with a straw sticking out of the top, the other a half-eaten--</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex squinted in utter disbelief. “Seriously Reggie? A chili dog?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie nodded eagerly. “With jalapenos and extra onions!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julie shook her head,  then laughed.  And then she laughed some more. “Remind me to at least get you a reusable straw, Reggie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that it was a good thing the band was now booking gigs that paid. Luke, whose Food Network addiction dated all the way back to the 90s, decided he had to try the restaurants of every superstar chef in the country and several out of the country. Reggie favored comfort food and on the nights that Tia Victoria didn’t show up with some sort of meal tried to make everything from chili con carne to chicken pot pie. When Ray asked Julie why their fridge kept filling up with groceries he didn’t remember buying, Julie claimed Reggie was missing his mom. After that, both Tia and Ray semi-adopted Reggie, who was so thrilled he even ate all the pickled herring Victoria kept bringing over for “our Swedish guests.” Alex, on the other hand, dove deeply into vegan youtube and lived on fruit, pasta, dark chocolate, and oat milk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, after I died myself, it just feels wrong to kill an animal for food I don’t actually need,” he explained to Julie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Julie, of course, had never been happier, except possibly when her mother was alive...but some things were impossible, and she had so much to be grateful for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Except on the occasional days when she wasn’t grateful. There were some downsides to having your best friends be three ghosts. Three exuberant, never-sleeping, curious, meddling, gossipy ghosts living in her garage, expressing their never-ending opinions on her life, her friends, and even her wardrobe, watching her at school, hanging out with her dad and brother, pestering her when she was trying to finish her homework, and always, always, always going through her stuff.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You can’t really doodle your crush’s name in your notebook when you know the second you’re asleep he’ll be snatching it and mining it for song lyrics. And you certainly can’t keep very much from your father when he’s constantly swapping stories with your bandmate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, though, it was gentle, considerate Alex that broke her. She was having one of those days. The new song for the school music program was giving her trouble. Reggie had gone rogue and “liberated” all the white mice her science class was supposed to teach to run a maze. She promised Nick she would help him in his run for student body president, and Luke drew horns and fangs on every single one of her campaign posters. All in all, it just felt like her skin was a little too tight and itchy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She walked home, skipped the garage, went straight to her room, kicked off her shoes, put the “Privacy” sign on her door, and plopped down on her bed. Only to see that Alex had left her a note, a cup of tea, some Belgian chocolate, and a bottle of aspirin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you could use this after your day” his graceful handwriting said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julie punched her pillow, chucked the painkillers across the room, shredded the note into teeny tiny pieces, and screamed. It was too, too much. She grabbed her phone and started to text Flynn, and then thought, <em>No. </em>What she wanted was someone completely unrelated to the boys. Someone that DIDN’T know her inside and out. Someone that didn’t leave her feeling so exposed and crowded and utterly surrounded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled up Nick’s number. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You ever need some space from your best friends?” She sent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“R U kidding?” he replied. “My best friends bump their chests together like apes and think “boo-yah” is an actual word. Problems with Flynn?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not exactly. I just wish everyone would go away and leave me alone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause while Nick responded. Then her phone suddenly went dark and rebooted itself. When it came back on, a single word lit her screen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>“GRANTED.”</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Whole New World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>1995</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Luke grabbed a pickle from the condiment container, but instead of dropping it on his hot dog, he popped it into his mouth. As an afterthought, he grabbed an extra dog to bring back for Bobby. They needed their rhythm guitarist on point tonight, not passing out because he skipped a meal to flirt with a pretty girl. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, no eating before paying!” The heavily accented voice interrupted him. Luke shifted the dogs into his left hand and dug his right hand into the back pocket of his jeans. </p><p> </p><p>He pulled it out empty. <em> What??? </em> He shifted to his front pocket. Where was the twenty he had slipped in just this morning? He came up with a quarter, half a ticket to the dollar movie theater, and a receipt for a bag of Cheetos. “Hey, Reggie, Alex? Either of you have any money?” </p><p> </p><p>Alex raised his eyebrows. “Sure, back at the venue. Thought you were buying tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Reggie just shrugged “Dude, you know I paid for the new shirts yesterday.” </p><p> </p><p>“You PAID for those, bro? After they printed Sunset <b>Curse</b> on them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure!” Reggie beamed. “When we’re legendary rock stars those misprints will be collectors’ items!” </p><p> </p><p>Sam the hot dog vendor had been listening and scowling. Now he reached out with both hands and grabbed the hot dogs back. “No cash, no wieners.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem,” Luke said easily. “We’ll be back in five. Alex?” Alex rolled his eyes and the two of them spun around and headed back toward the Orpheum. Reggie went to plop himself down on the curb, but a tall redheaded girl grabbed his arm. “Reggie, can I have a picture with you?” She waved a disposable camera. Reggie winked, turned, and posed, then let her shoot a few more wearing his leather jacket for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>While Reg flirted, Sam grabbed a set of tongs out of the trunk of his car, pulled the dogs from the buns, and returned them to the grill, muttering a curse as he dropped one onto the pavement. He bent toward it but was interrupted by a long black cane tapping him on the shoulder. “Two fifty for a dog with mustard, three dollars for one with the works.” Sam rattled off without turning around. </p><p> </p><p>“My good man, I’ll take everything you’ve got for five hundred if you close up and go home for the night,” came a cultured voice. It was accompanied by a fistful of cash.</p><p> </p><p>Since that was more than Sam and Ella usually cleared in an evening, they quickly accepted. By the time the band members were back, a lingering smell and a single dirty hot dog on the sidewalk were the only sign that they’d ever been there.</p><p>“Jeez Patterson you sure know how to show a guy a good time,” Alex complained.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, when we were together I even took you to a place with a tablecloth. Once. Not my fault you didn’t know a good thing when you had it,” Luke retorted.</p><p> </p><p>Reggie smirked at both of them and Luke bit his lip in frustration. Alex elbowed him in the ribs to show no hard feelings. “Never mind guys, let's just grab a 6-pack of tacos. Bobby’s waiting for us.” </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p><b>2001</b> </p><p> </p><p>Luke thought he had imagined every possible result from their night onstage at the Orpheum. He wanted it all: throngs of passionate fans, managers fighting over the opportunity to represent them, a three CD contract, a nationwide tour followed by a worldwide one, a couple of Grammys, and even maybe a band scandal or two once they were big enough to weather them. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t imagined that most of those things would happen within 18 months of their showcase. </p><p> </p><p>Sunset Curve was a phenomenon. The day the last band member (Reggie) turned eighteen they signed a huge contract. Sixty days later they opened for Alanis Morissette. Ninety days later their first single went platinum. Six months later they played Tokyo, then Sydney. </p><p> </p><p>By 1999, they had one of the first certified diamond albums. They had been places they’d never heard of and tried things they’d only dreamed of. Bobby bought a helicopter. Luke managed to talk him out of painting the band's faces on it.</p><p> </p><p>They celebrated New Year’s Eve for the new millennium by playing Paris, the lit up Eiffel Tower in the background. Even the so-called Y2K disaster never ended up amounting to anything! Everything was amazing. Except for one small problem.</p><p> </p><p>Luke couldn’t write. The joy of creating new music, which had streamed out of him effortlessly his whole life, seemed to have deserted him. Not that he was writing NOTHING. Stopping writing would be like stopping breathing. But it was all so...sad.</p><p> </p><p>He knew they were in trouble when their manager Edgar sat him down for a talk.</p><p> </p><p>“Luke, I’d like to bring in a songwriter for the next album.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I’ve always written our songs!” Luke cried. Well, most of them. Reggie had written some amazing melodies and Alex had actually written their last two huge hits with “This Is For The One I Never Met” and “In Love With Your Ghost.”</p><p> </p><p>“Luke, the occasional ballad is one thing. Fans will eat that up, especially with eyes and a voice like yours. But you’re an international sensation and multi-platinum success story. Nobody wants an album full of your problems. And it’s too early in your career for an acoustic title or a greatest hits. We need something with some life to it.”</p><p> </p><p>Luke could barely think. Suddenly he felt very, very tired. He’d been up until 4 am im-ing with Bobby and Bobby’s wife. Bobby married young, eager to start on the big family he wanted. After years of fertility issues, they had made the difficult decision to hire a surrogate. Unfortunately the woman had changed her mind about parting with the child she carried and they were in the middle of a huge custody battle. Luke didn't have the heart to tell Bobby that he was also pretty sure Reggie was drinking again and hiding it, which would mean another intervention and another three months in rehab while he dried himself out. And Alex…</p><p> </p><p>Well, Alex’s heartfelt interview with Rolling Stone about finding love had lit new fire under the civil union/marriage equality movement. But that interview had come with a price. Alex’s father had ordered his son never to contact him again, and had held fast to that until his death from cancer in 1998. On Alex’s last birthday, after way too many White Russians, Alex had thanked Luke for being his family. Then he’d confided he didn’t think he would ever really find anyone to be with permanently, the way he’d always dreamed. Luke had silently vowed on the spot that no matter what happened, Alex would never spend another holiday or birthday by himself, even if Luke had to kidnap him from his Hawaiian hideaway.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re the only family we’re ever going to need” Luke whispered to himself as he walked out of the office. It had become their band mantra over the years, especially Luke’s. He repeated it over and over...every time a letter to his mom came back unopened. Every time another private investigator told Reggie that there was still no sign of the little sister that ran away after Reggie left home. That she was almost certainly dead. Every time Alex’s mother refused his phone calls...but cashed the five figure checks Alex continued to send every month. Every time Bobby roped them into another benefit for Make A Wish or UNICEF or paid for a foster kid’s college education. Every time Luke woke up from a half-remembered dream of gazing sideways into sparkling chocolate brown eyes.</p><p> </p><p>What the hell do you do when all your dreams come true, and you STILL feel like you have nothing?</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>The band’s manager Edgar closed the door to his office, then sat back down in his chair. Humming lightly to himself he reviewed tour dates, answered a few emails, and stuck a Post-It to his monitor as a reminder that his new office furniture was being delivered on Thursday. All at once he became aware that he was not alone. He tried hard not to visibly shiver as he turned around. He didn’t quite pull it off.</p><p> </p><p>“Caleb.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything seems to be going smoothly.” Caleb said with satisfaction. “Sunset Curve is alive, famous, and rich. And miserable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Emily Patterson may become a problem,” Edgar said hesitantly. “She’s not just writing any more. She’s shown up twice in person and I’ve had to have her escorted out by security.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s an irritation, nothing more,” Caleb smirked. “Alex’s mother somehow obtaining his actual email address, now THAT was a real situation, but I dealt with that and I’ll deal with this. I assume the surrogate is still cooperative?” </p><p> </p><p>“Not a peep out of her since you visited her. I’d say she’s horrified by death and dying. She’ll be an easy get for your club one day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excellent. One more item. I need you to meet with a singer/songwriter this week. Her name is Rose Molina. You are to secure exclusive rights to anything she writes...and then never publish a note of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exclusive rights to...nothing?” Edgar asked in disbelief. “I don’t get it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t require you to get it, Edgar. I require you to do it. Use my private account. No ceiling on what you can pay. But you are to tie her up in every legal way imaginable. No loopholes. Nothing she writes or composes is to ever see the light of day.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if she won’t sign?” </p><p> </p><p>“Your job is to ensure that does NOT happen, Edgar. I should perhaps remind you that many, many agents would be happy to take your place at the helm of Sunset Curve. If you don’t succeed, I will find one. And then, of course, I won’t need you among the living any more.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't help it. I have a soft spot for Bobby/Trevor. Being the one left behind...I just can't imagine it. Sure he grew into a poser with his face on a helicopter, but I figure he was just layering over the pain. So I wanted to show him as a real person, who yeah, can be a bit silly, but a decent, caring human being. </p><p>I also wanted this story to be about people that complete us...which could be one other person or many...and could include all kinds of relationships. It was important to me not just to highlight romantic love but other kinds of important love too...kind of the way the show did.</p><p>So every member of the band is missing someone. After all, Caleb would never help Julie save the boys' lives and careers just to let them be HAPPY, right?</p><p>Thank you to the Indigo Girls, who wrote the original lyric that I took one of "Alex"'s song titles from.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. If I Didn't Have You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Checking in with Julie...and the rest of the Phantoms have a mind-bending experience.</p><p>(Disclaimer: I have been writing since before I was 10...but I am NOT  a lyricist or a poet. I apologize to the Supremely Talented Julie Molina for ascribing my efforts to her.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2020</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Julie, this is a really beautiful melody, honey.” The music teacher slipped her glasses off and placed them on the desk while she studied the sheet music Julie had handed her. But her eyes, when she raised them to meet Julie’s, were concerned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That said, is there anything you’d like to tell me? What inspired this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julie shook her head and stared at her feet. “I just...it’s the only thing I’ve been able to write since we lost my mom. I know you said I had to play today but I...I couldn’t. I was hoping you could take this instead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lowering her gaze to the paper, the teacher softly read</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pulled out of time</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost in the spaces</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That fall between moments</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgetting your place is</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Singing beside me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead you’re alone</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Living without you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Searching my soul</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For the pieces missing</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That would make us whole</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still we are drifting</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost in the unknown</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Were you born too early</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or was I born too late</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Misaligned somewhere</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And frustrating fate</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Death which united us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now has divided us</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mist turns to flesh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And to dust in the end</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Choose to burn brightly</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forever my friends</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Were you born too early</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or was I born too late</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Misaligned somewhere</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And frustrating fate</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Death which united us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now has divided us</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Julie, we really do need you to perform for this class, but let me see what I can do.” She spoke gently and carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julie wanted to tear the paper out of her teacher’s hands and run out of the classroom. Maybe out of the school too. Suddenly she wished she’d done anything instead of sharing her song. Great. One more person was thinking she was a head case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2001</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Alex carefully folded the slick paper, creasing it with his thumb into tiny triangles, counting slowly to himself “One, two, three, four…” In a few moments he had a miniature pink butterfly. Alex had learned a lot about himself over the years, and had experimented with all kinds of different self-soothing techniques. He discovered that the neatness and exactitude of origami could quiet his mind when he needed it. And it was a lot more portable than his drum set.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He also discovered he had no gift for origami. He could make butterflies. That was it. Whether he was in his L.A. penthouse, his Hawaiian cabin, or a hotel on tour, whatever space he occupied gradually accumulated butterflies.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Today had been a twenty-seven butterfly day. A friend had asked him for a favor, and Alex had been terribly tempted to say yes. But in the end, he had said no.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Luke, thanks for coming by.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Always, you know that. What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jennifer stopped by earlier. She’s really going to do it. Have a baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for her. I know it’s what they want.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She asked me if I wanted to father it for her.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, wow. That’s a big ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I said no.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Luke’s beautiful hazel eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Did you expect anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Now Luke was shifting his weight back and forth on his feet and his eyes were traveling uncomfortably around the room. “Well, I know that you’re not looking for anyone and, you know, you seem kind of …”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Lonely.” Luke couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, so Alex said it for him. “I am. I really, really am. I would love to be a dad, I think. But…”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my path.” Alex shrugged. “I don’t know how I know, but I know. Just like I know that my perfect match isn’t out there waiting for me. I’m not going to meet him.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s voice cracked a little on that last word. Luke couldn’t bear it. “Bring it here, man” he said, opening his arms. He and Alex hugged each other tightly. “All the family we’re ever going to need, right?” Luke whispered in his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Alex pressed his face into his oldest friend’s shoulder. “Right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reggie leaned into the mic, his mouth forming a perfect oval as he belted out the last note. When he finally fell silent, the sound still seemed to linger in the air.  Momentarily stunned, his bandmates just stared at him for a few seconds before bursting into applause.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Luke leaped onto his back, “That was killer, Reg!” Caught off balance, Reggie frantically grabbed at the microphone stand and barely managed to stay upright. Luke slid to the ground and smiled brightly at his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie was looking great. This time he had secretly shipped HIMSELF to rehab, got out in only 30 days, and was back from a stay at his ranch, bearing a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose and his cheeks rosier than ever. Reggie never tanned, no matter how many hours he spent outside with his horses and dogs. He grumbled about it but both Luke and Reggie’s horde of female fans thought the freckles were adorable. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie receives three times the fanmail of the rest of the band combined and always has. Somehow every single girl in every audience thinks he sings right to her. Back when they had enough time to open their own mail, Bobby and Alex used to compete to guess who the letters and packages were for without reading the address. The ones with original artwork or worshipful song lyrics enclosed tended to be for Luke. The really thick ones that went on for pages and pages generally went to Alex. Bobby’s fans sent photos of the various places they had tattooed his name or the band’s name. But if it was written in rounded cursive, if the “i”s were dotted with hearts, if it was scented, if it held chocolate chip cookies, a marriage proposal, a lock of hair or a pair of lacy panties, it inevitably landed in Reggie’s pile.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And absolutely every time they play, the second ‘Reggie steps on stage, thousands of feminine voices unite to scream his catchphrase at the top of their lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In a very early interview with Ricki Lake, Reggie had reminisced about a kitten he had found as a child. “So, it’s this teeny little thing, right, and hungry and dirty and of course our apartment doesn’t allow pets and my mom is muttering about fleas when my sister walks in and goes “But don’t you just want to SQUEEZE IT??” And Mom suddenly laughs and opens a can of tuna and we ended up keeping the cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That was the sound byte that went around the world. It aired absolutely everywhere, from Entertainment Tonight to the BBC to Japanese radio. Bill Maher cracked a joke about it, Bob Barker mentioned it before closing with “have your pets spayed or neutered.” David Schwimmer referenced it in a Friends episode called The One Where They’re All Rock Stars. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And their record company released an authorized poster of Reggie in a sleeveless vest with “Don’t you just want to SQUEEZE IT?” emblazoned on his bicep. Luke was pretty sure Reggie still hadn’t forgiven Edgar for that one. Still, it could have been worse. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They could have put it on his ass. That had been left for the unauthorized posters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So guess who I saw last night at the Sexy Stallion?” Reggie interrupted Luke’s casual contemplation of Reggie’s freckles. And maybe Reggie’s ass. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby looked worried. “A bar, Reg?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie waved a hand at him. “I’m really okay, Bobby. I had a breakthrough this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything you’d care to share?” Alex asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will when I’m ready. But listen, do you guys remember Rose from the Orpheum?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Luke remembered the Orpheum, of course. But Rose? He shrugged and shook his head. Alex looked equally blank. Luke thought back to that night. He could still hear the crowd clapping along to <em>Now or Never</em>, smell the humid air, feel the lights hot on his chest and the sweat dripping down his face. He could even taste the tang of pickle juice from the street cart and the cinnamon bubblegum of the girl he kissed backstage after the show. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby’s face brightened and he gestured toward the tattoo sleeve on his right arm. “Sure, I remember Rose. She gave me the name of a friend of hers who did ink. Who do you think gave me this bad boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well she’s in talks with a record company. OUR record company. They want to buy her stuff. I guess she’s a really great lyricist.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Luke felt a little sick. Was this Rose supposed to be his replacement?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, she gave me what she’s working on now and I tell you, as soon as I read it I could hear it in my head. It’s like I knew instinctively what it was supposed to sound like. I could even hear Luke singing part of it. She hadn’t gotten as far as the music, but I told her to stall. It’s ours. I don’t want her to sell it to them, who knows WHAT they’ll do to it.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the intro: Running from the past, tripping on the now, what’s lost can be found, it’s obvious…”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie continued, but Luke couldn’t hear him any longer. He was hearing a soft piano. Then a crescendo. A drum opening. He was seeing butterflies..a fluttering jumble of pinks, purples, and aquas. He was seeing Alex in the ancient pink hoodie and floppy blond haircut of 6 years ago. He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, and blinked twice, stunned to discover he was holding back tears. He inhaled deeply and shut his eyes, fighting for composure, but all he could see behind his lids were the warmest brown eyes and the softest lips, barely inches away. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Luke never tried to be an ass or some kind of rock star cliche, but he’d had a lot of partners over the years. Somehow, though, he knew. He’d never kissed those perfect, smiling, beckoning lips.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Then he opened his eyes, almost expecting to see Reggie in the old flannel shirt he still refused to part with and Alex still in the hoodie. Instead, he saw present-day Alex seated motionless at his drum set. And there was no holding back Alex’s tears.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't think I nailed the pacing on this story so well...when I started it I was figuring the whole thing would be around 10 pages...and then it just kept expanding. If any of you guys who write or read a lot wouldn't mind letting me know where I should consider cutting or expanding I'd be really interested to hear it. And I know I shoved a lot about Reggie into this chapter that I should probably have put in Chapter Two. Ah well, live and learn</p><p>I took the name the Sexy Stallion from Jeremy Shada's recording of "Home Is Where My Horse Is".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke and Alex were the most obviously impacted by Rose's lyrics... but it turns out they weren't alone.</p><p>Edgar is back. And he's not happy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2001</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edgar was in a panic. Caleb could come by at any time, and if he did, he was going to learn three things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three very bad things.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span>That this Rose Molina person had suddenly turned stubborn on him and was making noises about having a lawyer review their contract before she signed it. Any other person on the planet would sign a seven figure deal without a second thought. The woman was a bartender married to a struggling photographer, for crying out loud. </span></li>
<li><span>That Luke had stormed his office yesterday demanding that they release Unsaid Emily and dedicate it to his mother or he would terminate the band’s contract. When Edgar had tried to call his bluff, Luke had pointed out that Emily predated Sunset Curve’s signing and Luke owned all the rights. Luke gave him a week to book the studio time or he was going to play the song on Oprah. </span></li>
<li><span>That one of the idiots working for Edgar had somehow booked Reginald into the same rehab facility as the baby sister he’d been trying to find for years. Edgar had NO idea where Reggie’s sister was now. All he knew was that two days after Reggie was released she had checked herself out and departed. By private helicopter.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of nowhere, Luke had begun emailing him songs about destiny, second chances, and soulmates. Brilliant songs. Alex, at age 24, had dropped origami and taken up skateboarding, of all things, and although Edgar wasn’t sure what that signified he felt confident there was a problem somewhere. And Bobby! Reliable, self-loathing Bobby who had always wished for Luke’s talent and hated himself for envying his friend had suddenly produced two girl power anthems strong enough to reunite the Spice Girls! He dedicated them to “Carrie” and no matter how Edgar dug, he could not find out who this Carrie person was or how Bobby had ever met her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all pointed to one horrifying conclusion. He, Edgar, was no longer in control. The indestructible fortress he had built around the band for six years was collapsing like a house of cards.  Actually it was probably WORSE than a house of cards. Something like a day old souffle. And if the band reunited with their loved ones or remembered their deaths, Edgar knew that dealing with THEM would be the least of his worries... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Edgar searched for a calm place. For a rational thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he nodded. He still had one card to play. Time to put it in motion. He made a few phone calls, popped some Tums, and started drafting a press release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke boarded the private jet reluctantly after their performance in Chicago. The last thing he wanted to do this week was waste time on a photo shoot. The second-to-last thing he wanted to do was separate from his band mates. Scuffing his shoe against the floor, he wondered if he could tear a hole in the carpet by takeoff. He squirmed in his seat. He knew, absolutely knew, that this was not what he was supposed to be doing. He had somewhere to be, even if he didn’t know where. He had someone to be with, even if he didn’t know who. But how to get from here to there? That he didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What do I know? No, what do WE know?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby had spent hours that night trying to figure out what had changed. Unfortunately after that single stunning moment of clarity, everything went hazy again. So he went back to what always worked, what always told him what he was feeling, even when he didn’t know. The music. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When he came up for air 48 hours later he didn’t need the stunned looks on his bandmates’ faces to tell him it was the best stuff he’d ever written. He knew. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Alex had been skateboarding(!) on the rooftop deck and proudly showed off his bruised knees, scraped hands, and twisted ankle. He reclined on the sofa, wearing a smile brighter than the sun and twice as wide. He and Reggie were fastening earring studs to some of Alex’s army of origami butterflies. Stereotypes aside, Alex had never been an earring guy, but after what Luke was coming to think of as THE MOMENT, he had asked Reggie to go to the craft store. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie jokingly tried on a pair while Luke was still in writing mode. That kicked off the four hours where he wrote “Butterfly Queen” “Soul Warrior” and “Breaking Free.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie had quietly taken care of both of them, making sure Luke ate something in between inspirations, bandaging Alex’s ankle, rubbing their shoulders and just being in their presence. One thing the three of them were sure of. They didn’t want to be apart. Not even for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby, though, headed home to his LA compound. His wife had called a couple of times in the first 24 hours and talked to Reggie. She was completely unnerved by the sight of her husband, who had never so much as hung a picture frame himself, dismantling their workout room and repainting it electric pink. With his own two hands. And that was just the first day. The second day the white and gold furniture, frilly curtains, crystal chandelier, and a virtual Noah’s Ark of stuffed animals showed up. The third day Bobby proudly invited the three of them over to admire the new baby grand piano. In brilliant white. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Threatening Edgar had felt good, but also felt like a distraction.</span>
  <em>
    <span> It's ALL just a distraction</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So why am I going along with it?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luke bit his upper lip, nodded to himself, punched the window and got off the plane. A brilliantly colored butterfly settled on his shoulder for a single instant, then fluttered away into the sun. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hellfire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke goes back through some of his old journals. Edgar has a visitor. "The truth is finally breaking through" as "two worlds collide."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yikes! I edited in a few changes last night and created an inconsistency. That will teach me to revise until the very last minute! Fixing these two chapters this morning...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After hopping a quick flight to LA, Luke whistled as he unlocked the doors to the practice studio. Flying coach for the first time in five years was kind of wild. It hadn't changed much, except apparently they didn't give out peanuts any more. Just pretzels, which were not the same thing at all. The jet pilot had moved his original plane back into the hangar and left the flight plan in place as per Luke’s instructions. The photo shoot was scheduled for the morning, so Luke figured he had at least another 18 hours before he had to deal with Edgar bitching at him about the cancellation.</p><p>He turned off his cell phone, though, just in case. </p><p>Grabbing his journals, Luke began at the top, the most recent, and started rereading, beginning at the end of each volume and reading backwards to the front. He couldn’t really explain why, it just felt right. Like he was journeying back through his time with the band, reliving everything, both the good and the bad. So very, very many changes. </p><p>Except, of course, for his miserable handwriting. Even he had to squint to make some of it out. If he ever decided to publish a memoir, some typist somewhere was going to hate his guts.</p><p>It was almost eight o’clock and the studio was dimming when Luke reached the first notebook, the one he had carried with him through the garages and clubs of LA and the Orpheum. He rested his fingers lightly on the cover, oddly reluctant to open it. </p><p>“Reggie, this is insane,” he heard Alex’s voice from the hall. “There is no reason to do this now. Please Reg.”</p><p>“I. Do. Not. Care.” Reggie said in a jagged tone Luke had NEVER heard from him before. “I’m doing it. You do what you want.”</p><p>“No. This we do as a band.” Bobby’s voice came quietly. “If that means tonight, tonight it is.” </p><p>Wha--”this we do as a band?” Hurt lasered through Luke’s midsection until he thought he might vomit. What were his friends...his FAMILY going to do “as a band” with him safely on the other side of the country? </p><p>“Reggie,” Alex tried again. “I really think tomorrow…”</p><p>“Do you know what’s going to happen tomorrow Alex?” Reggie demanded. “Everybody who’s ever wanted a piece of Luke is going to show up here asking questions and poking into stuff. Press, fans, studio executives,” he snorted. “If it were up to Edgar he’d be selling Luke’s journals and six string on eBay.”</p><p>“Okay, Reg,” Alex said. “But we may as well pack it all. I can’t...I won’t play here again.” </p><p>“Agreed,” from Bobby.</p><p>Now Luke was truly baffled. “Hey guys?” he called out, “did I miss a memo or something? Are we moving?”</p><p>A few seconds passed with no answer, so Luke uncurled himself from the couch and walked toward the door. He was almost there when the door exploded open. </p><p>Alex, Bobby, and Reggie stood there. Three pairs of glassy, red-rimmed eyes stared at Luke. Three mouths hung open. </p><p>Luke stared back at them...and suddenly his tired brain added two and two and made an astonishing four.  Could it possibly be?</p><p>The joy dawning on his friends’ faces seemed to confirm his wild suspicion. Chuckling weakly, Luke went for the joke.</p><p>“Gee guys, who died?”</p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Caleb appeared in a tornado of grey smoke. Instead of dissipating, the cyclone continued to whirl around him, shooting lightning bolts in every direction...including toward a terrified Edgar.</p><p>“I paid you to follow instructions. I paid you to isolate the band. I paid you to deal with the woman. </p><p>I DID NOT PAY YOU TO THINK FOR YOURSELF.”</p><p>“Please, Caleb, I...let me explain…”</p><p>“Don’t you think I would be aware if one of the boys had crossed over? Or, AS IT HAPPENS, NOT crossed over? No.” He raised a gloved hand. “I have no more time to indulge your mewling, preposterous excuses and apologies. Seventy years of collecting souls and never have I been more greatly...disappointed. Billions of your dollars pale beside the value of the very least of the souls I control. Every exquisite, individual life a faceted jewel, perfectly imperfect, gleaming in its unique brilliance. And your small-minded shortsightedness may cost me the band. And where they lead, others WILL follow.”</p><p>Edgar raised a hand as if to object. Caleb’s eyes flared with unspeakable rage.</p><p>“Do NOT open your mouth and tempt me to obliterate you.”</p><p>Caleb waved his staff and Edgar vanished…</p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Once Luke’s friends were convinced he was NOT dead (Reggie and, surprisingly, Alex, were almost too ready to believe he was some kind of ghostly visitor) the four of them sprawled on the couch. Well, Reggie, Bobby, and Alex sat. Luke plopped himself across all of their laps. He just needed to feel their connection for a few minutes. Or a few weeks, maybe. </p><p>It was Alex who said it first. “Luke,” he started, absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind Luke’s ear. “Do you realize this means Edgar tried to kill you?”</p><p>Bobby nodded soberly. “It’s really the only thing that makes even a little sense. Why else would he think a plane that never took off, crashed over Oklahoma? What I don’t get is WHY. Isn’t killing Luke like slaughtering the goose that lays golden eggs, from Edgar’s point of view?”</p><p>“Not if he could license the rights to Luke’s biopic,” Reggie muttered under his breath. “If Luke died tragically Edgar’s cut of that would come out somewhere near ‘retire to a private island’ money.” </p><p>Reggie wasn’t wrong...but Luke was pretty confident that wasn’t the explanation. He sat up, picked his first journal up off the floor, and opened it.</p><p>The first thing that startled him was how...unfinished it was. His last entry was from the day he played the Orpheum. While all the rest of his notebooks were filled to every last nook and cranny, with lyrics, music, and thoughts, this one was at least half empty pages. It was as if he never opened it again after their breakout performance. Luke was disappointed. This didn’t seem to have the answers he was looking for. </p><p>And a bundle of loose leaf pages dropped out of the back.</p><p>Songs...but songs Luke had never seen before. Songs in his handwriting. “Finally Free” and “Stand Tall”, and then songs in a handwriting that DEFINITELY was not his. “Perfect Harmony”, “Flying Solo”, and “Fate.” And then the last one. “Nothing to Lose.” Except “Nothing to Lose” came with a sketch. </p><p>Of a face. A cruel, taunting face. A face never to be trusted, even as a pencil drawing on wide-ruled notebook paper. Luke crumpled the page. “Caleb Covington.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just want to say, I can't believe some of your comments. I have never tried to write any fan fiction before, and you have all been so nice and supportive. Thank you! (Not that I am the least bit surprised that JATP fans would be among the nicest people on the internet...)</p><p>I was writing this thinking of Luke as a very physical person. I read somewhere that where a fan speculated that Luke's love language is touch, and it was just so perfect given everything about who he is on the show. So I ship Juke hard as essentially soulmates, but Luke is a toucher and I think his attraction to people is always going to be about the emotions he has for them rather than the particulars of their bodies. I've tried to show that in the last few chapters and this one...while staying firmly PG13.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. You Ain't Never Had a Friend Like Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Time for the hard sell...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This did not go up NEARLY as early as I had planned today. I blame Jeremy and Carolynn (who, btw, I am pretty sure I want to be when I grow up_) for uploading the cutest vlog and enticing me down the youtube rabbithole.</p>
<p>But tomorrow should wrap everything up except for the epilogue I was inspired to start working on last night. Thank you very, very much, everyone who has read this. I am honored that you trusted me with your time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You rang?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The air in the dimly lit room seemed to shimmer, then sparkle. And then Caleb was there. In the flesh. So to speak.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, boys. How have you been?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke sprang to his feet, furious. “You did...something!” He glanced sideways at his bandmates. Alex’s fingers were curled into fists, and he looked only too ready to hit someone. Reggie was gripping Alex by the shoulders, holding him firmly in place for the moment. Bobby still sat on the couch, motionless, eyes on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Our conversation doesn’t concern Robert,” Caleb said dismissively. “I’ve taken the liberty of excusing him for the moment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do, Covington?” Luke nearly yelled. “What the hell did you do to us?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb smiled and Luke literally gagged at the wave of revulsion that rose inside him at this...this...person’s(?...even as he thought the word, he rejected it for some reason he didn’t understand)…smug attitude.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do?” he repeated. “Why, I saved your life, Lucas Patterson.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Alex stopped struggling and Reggie dropped the arms he had locked around Alex’s torso. “You mean in the plane crash?” Reggie guessed, his eyebrows connecting in a puzzled crease.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke fought for patience. This was definitely not the time to snap at Reg, So he controlled himself and just rolled his eyes at him. “I wasn’t on that plane today, Reg.” His own hands formed fists at his side. “I saved my own fucking life, you monster.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb gave him a pitying look. “Not TODAY,” He held up his gloved hand and a newspaper appeared out of nowhere. Shrugging the cape off his shoulders, he held up his hands in an unthreatening posture, took a step toward Luke and handed him the paper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke KNEW that he shouldn’t listen to a word this Covington guy said, but he couldn’t help himself. He unfolded the paper. It was a small LA arts journal that had stopped publishing after so many publications went online. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was dated June 24,1995. The headline seemed to leap off the paper. “Remembering Sunset Curve” and the subhead read “Fans Mourn Three Members of the Band You Voted Most Watchable New Group.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luke couldn’t believe it. According to the article in his hand, none of them had ever performed at their Orpheum showcase. Instead, he, Reggie, and Alex had…”Died by hot dog?” He lifted his eyes from the paper and glared accusingly up at Caleb. “There’s no way this could ever happen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I assure you, Lucas, it did.” Caleb shrugged as if they were discussing how he liked his eggs, and not how Luke and two of his best friends had DIED. “There were other writeups, of course, but I thought this one was especially touching. Then, of course, there are these…” he handed clippings to Reggie and Alex, who, not being able to see what Luke was reading, were staring from Caleb to Luke and back like a couple of tennis spectators. “I suppose to be more specific, I saved ALL of your lives. Remember the curious disappearance of your hot dog vendor?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie yelped and his eyes grew huge. “Th-this-this is my obituary! ‘Surv-v-vived by his mother, his father, and sister Melissa!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex said nothing at all, just crumpled the paper in his right hand, tossed it to the ground, stepped on it, and continued to stare at Caleb. His eyes scanned the dramatically dressed...man(?...nope, still not the right word…) from top hat to patent leather wingtip shoes and back again. His lips were pressed together into an almost invisible line and his exquisite jaw seemed to jut out further than usual in an expression Luke had never seen on his kind friend’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally Alex spoke. Quietly. Intensely. Sarcastically. “And why would you do this amazing thing for us?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I like to do favors for people,” Caleb said. “And of course, as a fellow musician, I respect your craft. Music is an astonishing thing, you know. So...visceral...intoxicating...compelling. I have ways of...discerning certain destinies from time to time. And with a little help, I can even occasionally alter them.” He smiled. Luke counted teeth. Sixteen, all uppers. He was pretty sure nobody who showed sixteen teeth should be trusted. Not that he’d trust this guy, in any case. Or any universe, for that matter, if this crazy, unbelievable, preposterous story turned out to be true. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I also took the liberty of dealing with your little...managerial situation,” Caleb confided, in a tone Luke was sure he (Caleb) intended to sound modest. It didn’t. “Edgar’s been a very naughty boy, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he tried to kill Luke!” exclaimed Reggie indignantly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not just that, Reginald, dear. Luke’s mother has been trying to get in touch with him since you toured with Alanis. Edgar has intercepted all the mail in both directions...and served her with a restraining order when she kept showing up at his office trying to see him.” Caleb silently snapped two fingers, and a waterfall of mail poured down over Luke’s head. “And perhaps this might interest you, Alexander…” This time he reached into his shirt pocket. “It’s Edgar’s Palm Pilot.” He lit up the small PDA and tapped the screen with the stylus a few times before handing it to Alex. Alex scowled down at it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So Edgar has 342 unread emails. He’s clearly not earning his 15% but that doesn’t actually compare to killing Luke.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb smirked at the blond drummer. “You’re not usually slow on the uptake, young man. Open one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex looked in Luke’s direction, but Luke was very carefully picking up all of the envelopes with his mother’s handwriting on them, even though he was still casting the occasional suspicious glance Caleb’s way. So he looked at “Reginald,” who gestured toward the Palm with a “come on, you know you want to” expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex hummed under his breath in his “Are we REALLY going to play along with this evil scumbag?” hum, but it seemed they were, at least for now. He tapped gingerly on the screen with his finger before wiping his hand on his pants. Even the little electronic planner seemed tainted by this caped weirdo.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then he gasped. Email after email from his mother, starting in 1997. Short messages saying nothing but “Thinking of You”. Long messages filled with remorse and self-blame. Birthday messages. Christmas messages. And then, after his father’s death, messages begging for a phone call instead of a check. One of those had been answered, presumably by Edgar. “Mom, if you really want to do something for me, take the damn money and leave me the fuck alone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After that, the messages stopped for a while. But six months later, they started pouring in again. The first one read, “Alex, I can only imagine the pain you must have been in to send me that last message. I have everything I need for a good life Except my son. I’ve put your money to work in various ways. I hope you approve of my decisions.” Every month after that she sent him an accounting in addition to weekly updates on her life. And the donations and funding decisions she was making were blowing his mind. Human rights advocacy, marriage equality groups. She founded a suicide hotline for gay teens and endowed a seat at his father’s university for queer studies. She saved the music program at the public school district Luke and Alex had attended. In 2001 they finally qualified for a federal matching grant that allowed her to open a shelter in downtown LA...a refuge for runaway kids with special outreach to underage sex workers. Emily Patterson was on the board. Emily also taught beginner guitar at Luke’s middle school.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex wasn’t sure when he’d started crying. Actually, that wasn’t true. He’d been crying inside  since 1995, when his father declared he was no longer his son. He might be sobbing on the outside now, but the internal bleeding was slowing down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wait...a stray thought wandered in and distracted him from the unbelievable words in the palm of his hand...he’d been crying since 1995? Where had he thought that before? Deja vu washed </span>
  <span>over him and he could almost remember…”I have BEEN CRYING FOR TWENTY-FIVE YEARS!!?!!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But of course, that couldn’t be right. Twenty-five years would be older than he, Alex, actually was today. And then the sweetest face floated into his increasingly confused brain: delicately feminine features topped by suspicious brown eyes behind owl-like glasses. She was holding something out to him and her voice...well Alex would have guessed her to have a voice like an angel....but actually it resonated with pure exasperation. “It’s now 2020.” And then, he heard her speak again, but with a touch more sympathy. “You did die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then it was superimposed by another voice he knew he’d never heard. “You’re new to this whole ghost thing, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex dropped the Palm Pilot. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Remember Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We learn a little more about what Julie has been up to...and Alex and Luke try to wrap their heads about the implications of dying, and what it means for the dreams that they don't admit out loud.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Julie is my favorite character in the series, so it was kind of shocking when I got to chapter 7 and realized she'd been left out of most of the story. One thing I've learned though, is as the writer I don't tell characters what to do...they tell me what they're going to do, and leave it up to me to make it make sense!</p>
<p>But Julie has not only been left to try to get through her mother's death, she's also bereft of the boys. Of course, she can't actually know what she's missing...but something is.</p>
<p>I am STILL not a lyricist or any type of poet. But fitting my own words to a melody I already knew was MUCH easier (although I don't think the final result worked out as well) and took a lot less time. For some perspective, I wrote chapters 1-6 in a single day except for the song lyrics, and then spent most of the next day on the lyrics for Fate from chapter 3.</p>
<p>In contrast, borrowing "Unsaid Emily" and rewording it took me less than an hour...at least on the initial pass. I kept tweaking a word here and there for quite some time, but for me that's inevitable for everything I write.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Worse and worse</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t what we rehearsed</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If I had just asked first</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wouldn’t feel lost inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wished you all away</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’d give anything to say</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I didn’t mean it that way</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s as if you died.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No time for goodbyes,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No way to apologize,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three pieces of my heart are just broken</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If you could come back home</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’ll never be alone</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’ll say I love you every day and</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sunset Curve is all we’ll play</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And never again would I betray you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t understand</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What It Means</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But three pairs of eyes </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Haunt My Dreams</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t meant to be this way</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Please tell me that it’s not too late</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’ll always miss you.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julie reread the lyrics she had been sweating over for hours. “Ugh,” she groaned, feeling a little sick about how rusty she was. But ever since Flynn had shown her that youtube clip of an ancient Sunset Curve performance on Oprah, the melody had been playing insistently through her brain. She couldn’t ignore it any more than she could ignore a ringing telephone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know why she felt so compelled to fit her own words to it...and the result was hardly going to wow anyone, but at least it was down on paper now. Maybe now she could let it go?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe not, as she pulled out her phone and rewatched the clip. For what had to be the hundredth time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julie studied Luke Patterson, as well as the band softly backing him up. They all looked so young. Of course, the Greatest Hits album that her mother purchased for her long after the band had broken up would have been produced at least 10 years after this performance. It was...kinda jarring to see Bobby, Reggie, and Alex looking so close to her age. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which was weird, because every time she and her mom had sung their stuff growing up, Julie had been...kinda jarred to realize that they were all her dad’s age. It was as if they were both older than they were supposed to be and younger than they were supposed to be. At the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After her mom died, Julie never played their music (or anyone else’s, or her own) again. Flynn, who liked their music fine, but had NEVER understood Julie’s obsession with what she called “Julie’s geezer band” had resorted to digging up old clips of them in an effort to bring Julie out of her shell. But Julie had been utterly stunned when she saw this one. She would have sworn they had never released a song she didn’t know by heart. She wasn’t entirely sure from what deep dark place on the internet her friend had unearthed this, but she Googled enough to learn that she was right. The song had never been published, the performance taking place only a few hours before Luke died in that plane crash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julie looked at the clock: 1 am. She’d missed dinner. And bedtime. And done no homework. It didn’t really matter, though. As the months passed  and their house didn’t sell and Julie got sadder and sadder, her dad had been getting more and more desperate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tia Victoria had come up with more and more elaborate plans to help her “sobrina” escape from “this sad house.”  Her last suggestion had been an exchange student program, but Julie had been so horrified by the thought of being away from what was left of her family for a year that the idea was quickly rejected. According to Carlos, two days ago their dad had been on the phone asking about apartment leases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when he knocked on her door earlier that evening and tried to remind her about dinner, and she’d mumbled “I can’t I have this song stuck in my head” his whole face had changed and he had practically run out of the room telling her he would save her a plate for when she was ready. Julie curled up on her bed, her lyrics in her right hand, and her phone in her left. She drifted off into sleep staring into Luke Patterson’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>2001</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luke and Reggie turned to stare at Alex in astonishment. “Uh, guys?” Alex started, not even sure what the end of his sentence was going to sound like. “I actually...do you...okay. Um, I think he might be telling the truth,” then he shot a hostile look at Caleb. “At least about some of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luck lowered his head and stuck it forward in his “you’re kidding me” stance. “Dude, I know there’s been a lot of weirdness lately and stuff, but I’m pretty sure trusting him is NOT the answer,” though he still clutched the envelopes tightly in his hand, as if they were the only thing holding him together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, now, I didn’t say ANYTHING about trusting him,” Alex retorted. “Just that he might not be completely lying.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“About which part?” Reggie demanded in a high voice. “Because if it’s about the us dying part, I’m really, really okay with that being a lie!” He turned toward Caleb. “That whole thing is just your idea of a joke, right?” He chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, we won’t be mad!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Reg-” Alex started. Then stopped. He couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke took advantage of that to break in, glaring angrily at Alex. “You can’t seriously think that we died? From eating a bad hot dog? All three of us? That we never played the Orpheum? That these six years have all been some kind of fantasy or something?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What Luke couldn’t say out loud was that he was pretty sure the brown eyes he’d been dreaming of for years belonged to his soulmate. The girl with the perfect, kissable lips. The thought of DYING without meeting her… well it was unthinkable. Unacceptable. Unimaginable. He wasn’t going to do it. Of COURSE nobody died without meeting their soulmate, if they were lucky enough to HAVE one. OTHERWISE WHAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I don’t understand it any more than you do!” Alex cried. “But we died and then I cried and…” his voice trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And WHAT?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Don’t you think if I knew I would tell you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gentlemen, we’re straying a bit far from the point,” Caleb broke in. “In any case,  you’re all alive and healthy right now, and your mothers are waiting for you. And Reggie, you just reunited with your sister, I understand!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie sputtered as Luke and Alex turned toward him in shock. “I--I, hey, how did you know that? I didn’t even tell the band!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s it,” Alex pointed the index finger of his right hand at Caleb. “You--out! I would like to talk to my friends without you. Oh, and--” he jerked his head toward the couch. “Whatever you did to Bobby? Undo it. NOW.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I make it a point never to overstay my welcome,” Caleb pulled the top hat off and bowed low. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to your musings. Only, don’t take too long thinking it over. If you wish to maintain your excellent health, we do have a few things to work out between us.”  He replaced the hat on his head and smiled his sixteen tooth smile again, before vanishing in a cloud of dark grey smoke.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Can You Feel The Love Tonight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finally the boys reach out to their long lost loved ones...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's an extra chapter after all. In front of the Epilogue. I'll explain more, but they're both done and going up now. Two chapters, no waiting. This has been really fun for me, and I have loved every single one of your comments. Thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bobby didn’t believe a word of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are all either messing with me or this is one of those mass hallucinations,” he accused, before walking out the door. “And for the record, that’s a pretty crappy thing to do to someone who just spent three hours thinking his friend was dead.” He slammed the studio door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie started toward the door. “He’s pretty upset, shouldn’t we...go after him? Or, I don’t know, call his--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s talk about you first, Reg,” Luke interrupted, still clutching his mother’s letters in his hands. “How do you FIND YOUR KID SISTER and not tell us? For WEEKS? This guy Caleb knows this about you and WE DON’T. How could you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that this is--” Alex started, then broke off at the furious look Luke was giving him. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Luke,” Reggie said, looking at the ground. “I love all you guys. I can’t remember the last time I kept a secret from any of you when I wasn’t drinking. But Melissa is...well, she’s really really fragile right now. She had a pretty hard time after she ran away. She’s at the ranch now and I just don’t want a bunch of people showing up there or the press running a ton of stories about Reggie Peters’s drug addict sister, or making a big deal out of our reunion. I was just kind of...thinking it over before telling anyone,” Then his face lit up with Reggie’s signature smile, and all of Luke’s anger evaporated into nothingness. “So, um, do you guys want to meet her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, we totally do, dork,” he answered affectionately. “But that doesn’t answer the question of how CALEB knew. And whether we died.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to mention that,” Reggie pointed at the letters in Luke’s hands. “And whatever it was Alex was reading over there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex was startled to realize his friends didn’t have a clue about what he’d learned from the Palm Pilot. Quickly, he gave them a rundown of the emails and what his mom was doing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” Reggie breathed. “Epic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke punched his right fist into his left hand. “Okay, but, seriously, how could we miss any of this? Our school losing funding for music? A homeless shelter and suicide hotline? And for the love of Pete, that chair she endowed for queer studies is in YOUR NAME. Wouldn’t the university have sent you something, anything? HIt you up for a donation at least?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the obvious answer,” Alex said, “is that there’s a cover up here that’s a LOT bigger than just Edgar would be capable of pulling off. Luke nodded in agreement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe that Caleb guy could…” Reggie started. Until Luke hit him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There is no way, Reggie, NO WAY that Caleb Covington is a good guy. I would bet my recently spared life on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Twice spared, apparently,” Alex corrected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I missing here?” Luke asked, perplexed. “When exactly did you join Team Sunset Curve Died?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex tried and failed to think of a way to explain his almost-memories, pacing, stopping, and then pacing some more. Finally he went with “Someone I trust told me that we DID die. NO, it wasn’t Caleb, Luke. Chill. It was somebody else. I can’t tell you who.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke looked like he was about to explode...then collapsed into a pile on the floor. Laughing. “What...what is this?” Alex asked, throwing his hands up over his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke could barely get the words out around the laughter. “Alex--don’t be mad but--my friend Alex, who I’ve known since 4th grade, the third person I kissed and the first I fell in love with, the MOST stressed out guy I’ve ever known…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just told ME to chill. Ohhh,” he kept laughing. “If I don’t stop I’mma break something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“YOU are--yeah, okay, it’s kind of funny,” Alex admitted. “Still, um, we need to figure this out like now. And then, I want to call my mom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie looked blank. “What’s to figure out? I mean, your moms have both been waiting for years. Shouldn’t you call them right now? And, in fact, my sister worries,” he continued, pulling his flip phone out of his jacket pocket, “I should…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, there is the small matter of Caleb implying we might die again unless we deal with him,” Alex answered sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, but all the more reason to call them NOW,” Reggie said, with one of the blindingly bright flashes of emotional insight that he was so good at tossing out when they least expected it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s the thing,” Luke said bitingly. “If any of this is true, we owe Caleb, big time. And I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t want to owe Caleb anything,” Alex agreed. “In fact, I don’t know why but I’m pretty sure owing him a favor or doing him one would be a monumentally bad idea.” He shrugged. “Like, eating a bad hot dog out of an Oldsmobile level bad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex’s mother’s home number didn’t work any more. He jumped to the bottom of the emails to see if she’d left any recent contact information. Apparently her health was getting worse, and her doctors had recommended a hot, dry climate. So she retired to Nevada. She had, in fact, sent him her new number. Their talk was brief, but emotional. And so draining. It was clearly as long as either of them could take. “I love you, Mom, and I always have,” he said, before promising to send her a pair of “earrings a la Alex.” She had been fascinated by her son doing origami and trying to skateboard. He heard her start quietly crying on the other end, but since she just said goodbye back, he figured she didn’t want him to mention it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke had a harder time of it. Her number was the same, he knew. But all the precious letters (that he was NEVER letting go of, not EVER) were piled around him, each one accusing him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You knew where she was.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They seemed to say in his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You knew, and you left her to suffer. A single phone call or in person meeting and Edgar couldn’t have kept her away from you any more. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luke was angrier about that than about Edgar apparently trying to kill him in a plane crash. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Luke reached for his phone. And then something truly horrible happened. Luke Patterson, who had nonchalantly eaten four tacos before their Orpheum gig, who had opened the Jagged Little Pill tour without missing a beat, who taught himself to sing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now Or Never</span>
  </em>
  <span> chorus in Japanese in two hours before playing Tokyo as a fun experiment without ever feeling the slightest twinge of stage fright, couldn’t do it. Instead he found himself hunching over the toilet, vomiting and trembling and half of him wishing he HAD died in some freak hot dog poisoning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reggie hung up with Melissa and went to help Luke. He brought him a glass of water and a blanket and asked if he wanted dinner. Luke flinched at the thought of food. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Alex wants Chinese, so we’ll get you some fried rice and sweet and sour pork just in case,” Reggie said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke washed his face, grabbed a clean shirt out of his suitcase, and called.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once his mother processed that it really WAS Luke calling, she started to cry and called his dad to the phone. “Son? Son? Is that you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s me, Dad. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Lucas, you didn’t upset her. You haven’t upset either of us,” and his dad’s voice cracked a little bit, too. He took a deep breath and continued. “So where are you right now? It looks like you travel a lot?”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, I’m in LA, Dad, I… got back from Chicago this afternoon. Hey, we played Oprah. Mom should get a kick out of it when it airs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s extraordinary, Luke. We’re so very proud of everything you boys accomplished.” There was a long pause, during which Luke wondered if his father was trying as frantically to come up with something to say as he, Luke, was. “Since you’re in town, would you like to have dinner with us tomorrow night? You pick the place. Anywhere you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke grinned. It sounded just like what his dad used to say about every birthday celebration. “Actually, Dad, I’d love to come over to the house for spaghetti, if it’s all the same to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That would be great. I can’t think of anything we’d enjoy more. Let me put your mother back on.” There was a little bit of background buzz, and then his mom was back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it true, Luke? You’re coming to dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, mom, I’ll be there. If you don’t mind cooking,” suddenly Luke’s mind was spinning...he could give his mom anything and he invited himself for dinner at HER HOUSE? “Or, you know, if you’d rather, we could hit Spago. You might see Leonardo diCaprio.” One of their last friendly conversations had been about Leo, when he’d confided his crush to his mom after they saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Quick and The Dead </span>
  </em>
  <span>together. Unlike Alex’s parents, his mom had just hugged him and said he had excellent taste.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, honey, please come here. I just want to see your face in my house for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, mom, see you tomorrow,” and Luke reluctantly hung up, staring silently at the phone for a minute or two.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex was eating lo mein straight from the container...and trying to use the cheap disposable chopsticks that the delivery place always included. He seemed to be batting about .250, if the stains on his shirt were any indication. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did they forget the forks again?” Luke asked, gesturing toward Alex’s t-shirt when Alex looked up at him as if perplexed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, not at all,” Alex said, and laughed. “I just thought it would be fun to try something new.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luke stared at the total stranger wearing the face of his best friend. “Who ARE you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Luke,” his friend said, looking very serious. “For the first time in years I think, I really think...I don’t think I’m going to be alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And,” he continued with a tiny knowing smile, “I don’t think you’re going to be either.” He swallowed a last bite of shrimp, and then stood up. “Let’s spend the night at your place. We can sort this all out after we get some decent sleep.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Just Around the River Bend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Our story concludes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The music  that matches Luke's lyrics is Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden (the same group from which I swiped the title.) I hope you like it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reggie was on the phone with his sister again when Luke woke up. “Big day today!” he greeted Luke as Luke stumbled, bleary-eyed into the kitchen and grasped desperately for the coffee pot. Two cups of well-sugared coffee later, he wearily cracked his neck and peeled his eyes open. “Just in time!” Reggie chirped, depositing a plate in front of him. And what a plate! Piled six inches high were frozen waffles, peanut butter, sliced bananas, and maple syrup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s all this?” he smiled at Reggie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A guy can’t make a special breakfast for his back-from-the-dead friend?” Reggie’s face fell for just a second. “You know the only good thing about our possible hot dog demise? None of us would have had to figure out how to go on without each other.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke tickled his ribs until Reggie’s smile came back. “Only family we’re ever going to need,” he started to say...and then stopped, shocked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was having dinner with his parents today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Alex jogged in from the front door, rose to his tiptoes, and did a single, perfect pirouette. “It’s a gorgeous day, your pool is still fabulous, and I only fell off my board three times today! I’m calling it a win.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached into the fridge, unearthed a carton of strawberry yogurt, ostentatiously checked the expiration date, and then popped it open and reached for a spoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at you, Luke Patterson, with the unexpired food in your fridge. Reggie, our boy may be growing up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no,” Reggie remarked. “I went for groceries this morning while you two were still asleep. Alex, I got you some cut up pineapple and a raisin bagel to go with that. They’re on the counter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a few minutes, everyone just ate. Alex made a second pot of coffee, adding milk until it turned a lovely cocoa-y beige. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” he started. “Caleb Covington.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wondered when you’d get around to me,” came an oily voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke, who had been resting his feet on the breakfast table while leaning his chair back, jumped and nearly fell. Fortunately Reggie, who was passing behind him, grabbed the chair back and prevented him from hitting the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Caleb?” Alex asked angrily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and don’t vampire types need some kind of invitation to just walk into people’s houses?” Luke asked. (He was pretty sure Caleb wasn’t a vampire, but wanted to poke at the guy some.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First, gentlemen, I am NOT a vampire, and I think if you search your hearts, you will find you know that I’m telling you the truth. About myself, and about your deaths.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First off, we’re not taking anything you say for truth,” Alex started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you said water was wet, I’d want a second opinion,” Reggie confirmed with a nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Secondly, we all have plans for today and will deal with you later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, gentlemen. My little “adjustment” to your lifespan was at the request of a special friend, and was only intended to be permanent as long as you remained unaware of it. But after Edgar’s interference yesterday, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled it all, and with it, your new destiny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that you know, we need you to agree to my little switch, or the timeline will heal itself. Which means, events will proceed as destiny intended, Sunset Curve will never play the Orpheum, and the three of you will die to contaminated frankfurters on July 22, 1995.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what do you want in exchange?” Luke demanded. “Our music? Our money? Our souls?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caleb laughed heartily. “Such an imaginative boy you are, Lucas. Your souls? I ask nothing from you and want nothing from you. Just keep living your lives as you are. Play your music. Reconcile with your families. You,” he pointed at Reggie, “take care of your sister, and you two, take care of your parents. Record all those gorgeous new songs Luke has been composing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alex kept turning it around in his mind, looking for the trap, but didn’t see it yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just continue publishing all your own work,” Caleb shrugged. “Between the four of you, you should have no difficulty coming up with new material.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke nodded along, as that’s what he’d always believed too. That thought instantly made him alert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’m not seeing the downside here, guys,” Reggie interjected. “We live, we get our families back, we don’t have to do anything for him. What’s not to like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alex looked skeptical. “What about other people’s work? It sounds like we’re not allowed to release anything written by an outsider.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I wouldn’t expect that part to be a problem,” Caleb asserted. “I mean, have you ever done so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, no,” Alex admitted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what precisely is  the problem? I am genuinely perplexed gentlemen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reggie piped up. “Does that mean we can't publish ‘Edge of Great’? Because I’d really like to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Caleb shouted forcefully. Then he seemed to regain control of himself. “Your unique gifts are what make you Sunset Curve. I didn’t go out of my way to save you...twice...just to hear you play someone else’s music.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And, there it is,” Alex muttered. “The song that made us all feel alive again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need a SONG to feel alive.You ARE alive,” Caleb insisted in frustration.He reached into his inner pocket. “Here’s your form. When you’re ready, just complete it and I’ll come file it. Then you can worry about dinner with your families and being rock stars. Keep one thing in mind: no half measures. You go or stay as a group. If two of you agree but one doesn’t, that one will share the fate of the other two. Five pm. Don’t make me wait. I don’t wait well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I JUST got my sister back! She needs me! You two haven’t even met with your moms yet!” Reggie cried looking from Alex to Luke and back again. “How can you even consider this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because the alternative is signing some sort of binding devil’s contract with someone I KNOW we can’t trust!” Alex yelled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Based upon WHAT?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, Reggie,” Luke started, “I don’t know what’s going on either, but Caleb Covington? Alex is NOT wrong. The guy is seriously bad bad news.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Worse than death? Worse than never having our dreams come true or reconciling with our families? When all we are giving up is ONE SONG?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke looked at Reggie. Reggie looked at Luke. Then Luke looked at Alex. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I don’t think I can do this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alex turned pale. “We have to. We HAVE TO. We’re NOT supposed to be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I still don’t know why you believe him about that, either!” Luke yelled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, you guys,” Alex said. “I can almost remember some of it, when I try. I remember...not dying but...being dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How would a dead person remember anything?” Reggie asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How am I supposed to know? But I DO.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need some time. I need a little space,” Luke finally said. “I’ll be in my office.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke’s “office” had no conventional desks or filing cabinets, none of which would be a surprise to anyone who knew him. It had the biggest leather couch on the market, one huge window, a drafting table topped with a computer holding the best music mixing software on the market, and all of his favorite instruments. And he had wallpapered it with sheet music. With his own hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled up his oldest guitar and started strumming, desperately trying to think. Signing Caleb’s ridiculous contract was wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. The mere thought of trusting his and his friends’ future to that snake made him think he was going to vomit for the second time in 24 hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except the alternative seemed to be willing himself out of existence. Never getting to perform his music for thousands. Never speaking to his mother again. Never meeting his (maybe?) soul mate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he thought of Reggie making him breakfast, and Alex hugging him and laughing at him over coffee. And a million tiny moments over the years. Reggie showing up in first grade with two missing front teeth and a Punky Brewster lunchbox. Alex and Luke teaching Reggie to ride the bike his father bought him but never took any interest in. Alex practicing his handwriting over and over until he could forge notes to get them all out of class. The clove cigarettes they tried together in 8th grade. Once. Yuck. And when Luke left home, the two of them sneaking him leftovers and candy on the days that the park visitors weren’t tipping well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he knew that people could have more than one kind of soulmate. He could not sign his brothers in everything but blood into some sort of unholy bond with Covington.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now he just had to make peace with that decision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At 4 pm, he played his new song in its entirety. For the first and last time. He printed the sheet music, and left Bobby a note asking him to please tell his mother that he loved her, to watch them perform on Oprah, and to show her this new composition.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Brown Eyes Gleam</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By Lucas Patterson</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are my dream, you are my wish, you are my fantasy…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You are my hope, you are my love, you’re everything that I need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I miss your smile with every breath oh babe you know that I do</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can’t carry on knowing this is wrong and now </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’ll miss our beginning</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Our reason for living</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How do I find meaning, oh</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I dream of you smiling in the morning</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretend I sing to you every night</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes I think I could almost touch you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brown eyes gleam at me so loving and bright…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And while I waited for you time passed on and all the years went by</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re out of time and now I’ll never know the real reason why</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That you’re the one I can’t remember but will never forget</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That I’m your prince and you’re my princess though we haven’t met</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I had the power</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In my final hour</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I would run straight to you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I dream of you smiling in the morning</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretend I sing to you every night</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes I think I could almost touch you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brown eyes gleam at me so loving and bright…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Do you miss me, baby? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dear Lord, I hope you never do</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I thought your heart was breaking like mine</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t do this to us now</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I dream of you smiling in the morning</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretend I sing to you every night</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes I think I could almost touch you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brown eyes gleam at me so loving and bright</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<span>Luke put on his brightest smile and walked out into the living room.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reggie looked up at him. Something in Luke’s face must have told him his answer. Reggie swallowed hard, and stood up, and hugged him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, man. I knew. I called Melissa. This life...it’s not good for us, is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so, Reg.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alex came up, hugged them both hard, and then held out a book of matches. Reggie unfolded Caleb’s contract. And Luke struck a match, and set it on fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It burned to ash shockingly quickly. The three stood around looking at each other, not sure what to do next. Luke jerked his head toward their instruments. “Go out playing?” he suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alex smiled at him. “You got it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they played.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes I think I'm falling down</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna cry, I'm calling out</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For one more try to feel alive</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And when I feel lost and alone</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know that I can make it home</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fight through the dark and find the spark</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Life is a risk, but I will take it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Close my eyes and jump</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Together, I think that we can make it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>C'mon let's run….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they were falling. And landing on their stomachs. In their old studio. Alex tried to remember what had just happened, but it was all a blur. Rubbing his neck, he climbed to his feet, turned around, and saw an incredibly petit girl, with huge eyes, a baggy sweatshirt, and perfect skin...almost the exact shade of the coffee he liked with lots of milk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took one look at all of them and screamed. And ran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Alex, the reigning king of anxiety, turned away from his friends and smothered his smile before he freaked them out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was going to be fine.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So here's the thing. I have been revising chapters 7 and 8 for a week. And then last night I decided I didn't like it. Luke Patterson wouldn't do what I needed him to do. He wouldn't give up on finding Julie and reconciling with his mom and step off into the great unknown. If it was just Julie in play, he would have cut the deal with Caleb.</p><p>Which is a problem. He needed to work it out through music. He needed to realize that Reggie and Alex were his people too...not just substitutes for the family he gave up, but part of his heart and soul. He needed to write a song.</p><p>And there wasn't enough room in Chapter 8 for the characters to do it all. So even though I've been promising 8 chapters. I rewrote it all. And added a song. And we have 9.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. I Bring You a Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Epilogue</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The music for the final song is Christina Perri's A Thousand Years.</p><p>To clarify how it should sound, the words in parentheses at the beginning of each verse are sung very quickly and kind of BETWEEN the lyrics that Perri sings... almost like an echo.</p><p>So the first two lines would sound kind of like this:</p><p>Souls. Are. Jewels. I've-heard-it-said<br/>But-I Know. Your. Soul.</p><p>And if you listen to the music while reading the lyrics and lose your place, just know that Butterfly Girl is a match for One Step Closer in the original and you'll get back on track. Thank you to my favorite youtube musician Jacob Restituto for inspiring the melody choice with his Unsaid Emily/Thousand Years mashup.</p><p>Hope you all like the epilogue. It hit me a couple of days ago.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was having one of those days. The new song for the school music program was giving her trouble. Reggie had gone rogue and “liberated” all the mice her science class was supposed to teach to run a maze. She promised Nick she would help him in his run for student body president, and Luke drew horns and fangs on every single one of her campaign posters. All in all, it just felt like her skin was a little too tight and itchy.</p><p> </p><p>She walked home, skipped the garage, went straight to her room, kicked off her shoes, put the “Privacy” sign on her door, and plopped down on her bed, wrapped herself in her softest blanket, and fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>When she woke up, there was a notebook next to her bed. She sighed exasperatedly. She loved them more than words, but it was still unnerving to have them flitting in and out while she was sleeping. Guess it was time for another talk about boundaries.</p><p> </p><p>Already mentally composing the lecture she was going to give them, she opened the notebook to see what they had left for her approval. It was clear the lyrics were Luke’s, but Alex had been nice enough to recopy them for her. </p><p> </p><p>Souls are jewels (I’ve heard it said)</p><p>(But I) know your soul</p><p>Is never so cold</p><p>And gives me life after</p><p>Death which doesn’t scare me at all</p><p>Since the first time you called me home</p><p>Never fly away</p><p>Just say you’ll stay</p><p> </p><p>Butterfly girl</p><p> </p><p>I could drown easily in the warmth of you</p><p>You rescue me with your love been dreaming of you</p><p>For all my life</p><p>Every day of my life.</p><p> </p><p>Wouldn’t change my death (even if I could)</p><p>(You’re) all that’s good</p><p>Your colors dazzle me</p><p>Your bravery baffles me</p><p>And when you sing</p><p>I always think</p><p>Butterflies spin round you and </p><p>I understand why</p><p>They’re drawn to your soul</p><p> </p><p>Butterfly girl</p><p> </p><p>I could drown easily in the warmth of you</p><p>You rescue me with your love been dreaming of you</p><p>For all my life</p><p>Every day of my life</p><p> </p><p>The day I thought I gave you up</p><p>I was so broken-hearted</p><p>Believed we were finished</p><p>Before we got started</p><p>But you were wise</p><p>Took me completely by surprise</p><p> </p><p>[Instrumental]</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Butterfly girl</p><p>Butterfly girl</p><p> </p><p>I could drown easily in the warmth of you</p><p>You rescue me with your love that's why I love you</p><p>For all my life</p><p>Every day of my life</p><p> </p><p>The day I thought I gave you up</p><p>I was so broken-hearted</p><p>Believed we were finished</p><p>Before we got started</p><p>But you were wise</p><p>Took me completely by surprise</p><p> </p><p>And attached at the bottom were three tiny origami butterflies: a purple, an aqua, and a pink.</p>
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